


And the stars look very different today.

by dorky (dorcas_gustine)



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-14
Updated: 2010-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-06 06:46:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorcas_gustine/pseuds/dorky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What the hell is he doing in a graveyard?</p>
            </blockquote>





	And the stars look very different today.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be pure crack, but somewhere along the way it turned into something serious.  
> And angsty.  
> Also, vaguely slashy.  
> This is also a sequel to [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/50835).  
> This is written for the betrayal challenge over at [1973flashfic](http://community.livejournal.com/1973flashfic/).  
> This is also where I might be abusing the word 'zombie', because now that I'm finally posting my zombie!fic, I can't get it out of my head.
> 
> **SPOILERS FOR 2x08!**
> 
> Not betaed.  
> Title comes from Space Oddity (oh, look, another Bowie song)

It's cold.

Why is it cold? And hard. It's hard, as well.

And possibly night.

Sam opens his eyes, and he's looking at the stars.

Definitely night.

He laughs out loud. And then he stops, because he really doesn't know why he's laughing.

It's cold and hard, that's something you really shouldn't laugh about.

He gets his hands under him, his palms scratching against the rough surface of stone. He frowns.

Stone?

He blinks his eyes and looks around, and what he sees makes him frown even more.

What the hell is he doing in a _graveyard_?

Oh, right. He's asked Gene to stop the car. They've been passing by, after the night at The Railway Arms, and Sam said, 'Stop'. Gene predictably replied with a 'Are you nuts?'.

But Sam didn't raise the bait, he just opened the car door and stepped out while they were still driving, slower than Gene's usual speed, of course, otherwise he'd be dead at the side of the road, instead of being-

Well, in a graveyard with his palms just slightly scratched.

He knows he's drunk right now, but Sam is reasonably sure you can't die of a scratched palm.

So he's in a graveyard, leaning back against a gravestone, his palms scratched and Gene nowhere in sight.

Why did he want to come here? Why did he make Gene stop– well, actually he hasn't really made him stop, it's more of a case of having wanted him to stop. Here. In a graveyard.

He shivers in the chilly air.

Right, with his luck it's probably midnight and zombies _really_ exist.

Oh, wait.

"Midnight's for witches. And ghosts," he says out loud, in case there're any zombies around.

That doesn't mean he's immune from witches and ghosts.

"_Tyler_!"

Well, a pissed off Gene Hunt would scare _anything_.

"_TYLER_!" he yells again. "Where are you, you bleedin' pillock!"

Sam hears a muffled curse, then something heavy falling to the ground. Then some more cursing.

"Did you trip?" he asks, it can't be good for his injured leg and Sam is a mindful bloke.

More cursing. "Yes! You flippin' idiot! I _bloody_ tripped!"

"Are you drunk?" he asks, because maybe he's having troubles with his balance, like Sam.

"Not enough for this lovely scenery you've chosen, Gladys!" Gene grunts, and Sam hears him stand up, patting himself down to dust off his clothes.

Finally, Sam decides he's had enough with trying to guess what Gene's doing from what he hears, and he looks in his direction. His Guv is limping across the path, stumbling here and there. And cursing, of course. If there were any zombies at all, he must have scared them all away with this ruckus.

Or maybe that only works with snakes.

"Would you care to explain what the hell-" Gene trips, but regains his footing. "_Bollocks_\- are we doing here?"

"I'm lying on a grave," Sam says. "I don't know what you're doing here."

Gene's finally reached him, and standing there, in front of him, hands on his hips, he doesn't look happy at all. "I've come to- _Jesus Christ_!" he suddenly exclaims, recoiling back, his face half-way between surprise and horror.

Sam frowns. "What?" he asks, but Gene is staring wide-eyed at something behind him.

Sam seriously hopes it's not the zombies. There's supposed to make weird, moaning noises right?

Oh, shit.

What if they're zombie _ninjas_?

Sam turns to look, but there's nothing behind him. Then why is Gene- oh.

_Oh_.

Sam suddenly remembers why he wanted to come here.

"Oh. Look," he says, pointing at the name on the gravestone. "I'm dead."

"What the hell does _that_ mean, Tyler?" Gene demands.

Sam shrugs.

He really doesn't want to get into an elaborate explanation on his undercover identity his amnesiac alter ego who actually is a figment of his imagination as everything else around him is- Crap.

Can't be easy to explain if he's not even able to _think_ it.

"Well?" Gene asks, glaring at him.

"Uh," Sam leans back, against the cold stone, then he changes his mind and climbs it, using it as a support to stay upright. Mostly.

"I see gravity still hates you," Gene narrows his eyes at him. "Seems to 'appen a lot when you're bladdered off yer arse."

Sam nods. "The two things seem to be linked."

"You don't say," Gene snorts.

"You're being sarcastic."

"Indeed."

Sam nods.

"You still haven't explained," Gene says, nodding to the gravestone Sam is currently propped up against.

Sam sighs, then inspiration strikes. "It could be just a dead bloke with the same name as me."

"Sure, Gladys," Gene nods. "You always over-complicate things."

"It's _complicated_," he replies, spelling the word carefully.

"I already said that."

"I was stressing just how complicated it is."

Gene sniffs. "Right."

For a supposedly drunk bloke, the Guv is really fast, and in a blink he's in Sam space, growling in his face. Sam's eyes cross at the sudden closeness and in drawing his head back, he almost topples back over the gravestone.

"You move _fast_," he says. "Are you a ninja?"

Gene frowns, then shakes his head. "No, Tyler," he says, grabbing his jaw. "I want an explanation, and I want it _now_."

"Um," he says, or rather, mumbles, the grip Gene has on his jaw seriously hindering his ability to speak. "The truth is-" he begins again, and that's already a lie, so he stops. Finally he settles on, "I'm crazy."

"That's the first sensible thing you've said in a long time," Gene replies, but his voice is soft, and it lacks the usual sarcasm.

"Oh, the irony," he chuckles.

Gene lets go of his jaw, and Sam sags against him, not really needing the support – he's not _that_ drunk, after all – but liking the feeling of something warm and alive to lean against, instead of a cold stone with his name on it.

"Tyler…" Gene sighs, but doesn't move away, letting Sam lean on him with his forehead against his shoulder.

"You were the one saying I was obsessed with your personal space, Guv," Sam reminds him.

Gene takes hold of his shoulders and pushes him back. "Sam?" he asks seriously, and there's something in his eyes that makes Sam's insides clench more than seeing him fall under Johns' fire had.

But he's not sure this is something to be discussed now, when they're both on the drunk side of tipsy and standing in a graveyard on Sam's grave.

"Guv, I…" he swallows. "Not now."

Gene nods, and his hands slip from his shoulders, down his arms, to his elbows. Until they drop at Gene's side, after a moment. "Why are we here, then?"

Sam looks back at the gravestone, studying the letters corroded by time. "Morgan brought me here," he says. "This is where-" he swallows, forcing himself to say it, to admit it. "This is where I made up my mind," he says.

"About what?" Gene asks.

"Betraying you," Sam whispers, and sneaks up a look at Gene.

Gene is looking back at him, his eyes unreadable. "You saw your name on a grave and you decided, what? That this wasn't real?"

Sam barks a laugh. "Something like that."

"You really are crazy," Gene snorts.

"I told you it's complicated," Sam shakes his head. "I just- I didn't know what was real, and what wasn't."

"What made you change your mind, then?" Gene continues. "What made you come back?"

He shrugs. "I figured it doesn't matter if it's real or not, if I can feel it."

"That's a barmy logic, if I've ever heard one," Gene says. "And I've been working side by side with you for the last few months."

Sam laughs. "So?"

"So what?"

"I've-" he shakes his head. "What is this?" he suddenly exclaims, throwing his arms wide. "I betray you, and when I come back you all welcome me with open arms!"

And okay, this is his fantasy, his _mind_, but he likes to think he's more coherent than this. It's supposed to feel real to him, isn't it? And all of this easy forgiveness, like somebody's just snapped his fingers, like a weird happiness spell, doesn't feel right to him. It doesn't feel real.

It shouldn't be like this, it shouldn't be a fucking Disney movie.

And suddenly Sam is so fucking angry.

"You bastard!" he exclaims, shoving Gene back. "It's not supposed to be like this!"

Gene grunts and falls back, landing on his arse at Sam's feet, off of Sam's grave. The pain is obvious in his grimace, and Sam suddenly remembers Gene's injured leg.

"Shit! I'm sorry," he says, crouching down, to check if there's any serious damage. "Are you alright?"

"I _was_ all right," Gene glares up at him, then his good leg shoots out and kicks him in the shin.

Sam gasps in surprise and in pain, and he loses his balance, falling sideways and hitting his elbow and his knee on the way down.

"Ow, shit!" he yelps.

"You deserved that," Gene grunts, sitting back up. "Bloody wanker."

Sam sits up, as well, now leaning against his mother's grave. "Sorry 'bout that," he repeats.

"What was that about anyway?"

Sam shakes his head. "You trusted me," he says. "You trusted me and I _betrayed_ you!"

"You already said that," Gene sniffs. "What's your point?"

"My point is," Sam exclaims, "that this doesn't make any sense at all! You should be bloody punching me to the ground, beating me up like there's no tomorrow, because you trusted me and I fucking betrayed you!" he's yelling now, but his voice breaks by the end, and he falls forward, head in his hands, and he wants to cry, but he has no bloody right.

"You think I'm making this easy on you?" Gene says, after a moment. "Why? Because you're pretty and soft? Forget it, Tyler."

"Then why are you treating me like- like I'm a bloody hero?!"

"Because you shot him, Tyler," Gene replies. "You came back and you shot him. And because of that I can enjoy a pint with Ray down at the pub. Because of that I didn't have to go to Chris' parents and tell them he was shot down in the bloody line of soddin' duty. Because of that Cartwright's still got her lovely lumps. Because of that I'm still alive."

"Guv-"

"Shut up, Tyler, I'm not finished," Gene hisses. "I'm celebrating that, Tyler. But don't think," he says, pointing a menacing finger at him. "Don't think, even for _a moment_, that I'm letting you walk free with that shit you pulled, Tyler. Because you're going to regret it, trust me."

"Am I?" Sam whispers, but judging by the look in Gene's eyes, he definitely is. He smiles. "Good."

Gene seems perplexed at his good humour for a moment, but he's probably just going to file that under 'Sam Tyler is a bloody nutter'. Sam bets it's a very long list. "Glad we agree on that, then."

Sam leans his head back, nodding absently. The stars are very bright tonight- well, _this decade_. Sam doesn't remember ever seeing them so bright in his life. Except maybe that time when he went to the country house of one of his girlfriends.

"I…" he trails off, not sure what he's going to say. "I trust you, Guv."

"What," Gene snorts, "is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I trust you," he repeats.

There's a moment of silence. "Should I trust you, as well, then?" Gene asks, finally.

"I don't know," he replies. "That's up to you, Gene. You're the Guv, after all."

"Damn right I am," Gene says, with a satisfied grunt. "And don't you forget it."

"I've got a feeling you won't let me," Sam chuckles. "For a long time."

Sam leans forward and, crawling on his hands and knees, he reaches Gene, who's still sitting on the ground. He sits next to him, and they stay there for a while, looking at the name carved on the stone.

After a good five minutes, Gene turns to him. "So, shall we get going, before we freeze to, um, death," he says, casting a surreptitious glance at the graves around them.

"Or before the zombies get us," he replies.

He wonders if his mind can really come up with something like that, if he thinks about them long enough.

On second thought, it's better if it doesn't, things are screwed up enough as it is.

Gene stares at him. "No more booze for you," he says after a moment.

"Wait till you've heard about the zombie ninjas."


End file.
